One Week
by tiswillard
Summary: One week after Doug hits Tom. Oh my God, I feel like a real bad person making that happen. Tom/Doug. Lots of boyxboy touching.


**A/N: I needed an excuse for major boyxboy touching. I'm really self-conscious about sex scenes, God so help me. Constructive criticism is begged for here. Kind of a writing practice. Written when I couldn't sleep, and finished after I had finally slept (and then edited after I had slept again), so sorry if the writing seems a little choppy. Different from my normal fluffy stuff. Oh yes, by the way, don't read if you have a major issue with boys touching boys.**

One week.

The digital clock turned to 2:49, and Tom's thoughts turned to Doug. One week, and he'd managed to not think about. One week, Tom had been hurting and not even realized it. One week, and Tom had been sleeping fine. Until now.

He'd buried himself under the sheets over six hours ago, at eight' o clock, simply for the fact that he had no other reason to stay awake. Those had been six long hours, staring at the clock, wondering when or if he'd ever become drowsy. He never had, of course, and he'd eventually dragged himself out of bed and brought an exorbitant amount of snacks into his room, which had been placed at the floor to the side of his bed. It had rapidly just become instinct to fling his hand over the edge of the mattress, and shove his hand into the first bag of whatever happened to be there.

There had been four hours of that, but at 2:49, the last six hours didn't matter.

One week.

One week, he hadn't called. One week, they hadn't made eye contact. One week, they'd managed to be working on the same case and not say a single word to each other. One week, and Tom wasn't even sure if Doug knew that he existed anymore. One week, and Tom wondered if Doug had actually managed to forget about him.

Technically, Tom had managed to forget about Doug. Miraculously, he had managed to stay strong. Doug hadn't crossed his mind at all. They were on a case together, but they rarely came into contact. When Doug talked to Judy, Tom would talk to Ioki. When Doug talked to Ioki, Tom would talk to Judy. When they filed their sorry little broken-up asses into Fuller's office, they disregarded everything the other had said, and only talked to Fuller.

So either everyone who worked in the chapel was stupid, everyone in the chapel was completely ignorant and didn't care about Tom or Doug or otherwise had not noticed that they were dating, or they had figured it was best not talk about it. That was the least of Tom's problems, of course. All of the avoiding Doug had come so natural, and Tom had no idea why.

There was no denying it. For the past year, Tom had always thought that if he and Doug ever did break up, he would come out of the relationship a complete wreck. He wouldn't stop crying for weeks, he'd never make it to work on time. He would've even expected it if he were fired from his job. It wasn't that Tom was so pessimistic all the time, it was just that he was really that hopeful that he and Doug would never break up.

And then Doug had hit him.

At this point, Tom couldn't even remember what they had been fighting about. He and Doug rarely fought. At least, not like this. Tom must have said something-- at this point he didn't remember why they had even been fighting. But they had, and eventually Doug had lifted his hand and slapped him.

After that, it was quiet for a while. Tom was dumbstruck that Doug, _his_ Doug had ever even taken the time to lift a hand towards him. But he had. Eventually, Tom had managed to pick up his pieces and make enough sense of the situation to high-tail out of there. Tom didn't say a word when he left, though nor did Doug. With the slap, with the silence-- all of it had shattered one year's worth of their relationship.

One year minus one week.

And ever since then, Tom hadn't shed a tear. He hadn't thought of Doug. Nothing. His mind had been on auto-pilot, he realized.

The worst kind of hurt, Tom had once heard, was when it hurt too much to cry. That had always seemed stupid to him. How could you seriously not be able to cry if you were that hurt? It just didn't hadn't made much sense to him. Until now, anyway.

But now it hurt twice as bad, and whatever philosopher had said that 'The worst kind of hurt is when it hurt too much to cry' seemed like a dumb ass all of a sudden. When 2:49 had turned to 2:50, Tom had started bawling his eyes out, not knowing what else there was to do. Because it wasn't just one week, now. It was one week and one minute.

One hundred and sixty eight hours and one minute. Ten thousand and eighty-one minutes.

It took five minutes to do the math in his head. He wasn't thinking straight, and the sobs that he was no longer fighting to calm were loud and breaking his train of thought. Eventually, however, he had calmed down. Tears were still pouring out his eyes, and he was hiccuping like a maniac, muttering Doug's name over and over again. Other than that, he was perfectly fine. And it was now ten thousand and eighty-six minutes since he had left Doug. Or Doug had left him.

Before he could give it a second thought, he was walking around his room, looking for things to wear. He pulled on a pair of pants that he found crumpled on the floor. He couldn't remember when it was the last time that he wore them, his mind was too much of a crumpled mess to work anything out like _that_. After tripping over the pant leg, having not pulled them all the way up when he continued his mission to find suitable clothes for an early-morning visit, he finally managed to have the button secured, and the fly zipped. His eyes searched the room desperately for a hoodie, something to go over his undershirt.

His eyes locked on it, and he flung himself towards it with such desperation to get it on and get over to Doug's house that he was surprised he didn't kill himself in the process. Without even beginning to put on the hoodie, he dashed towards the front door, stepping into a ratty old pair of boots that he had a strange feeling he hadn't tied correctly. That didn't matter, though. Tom flew out of the door as soon as the shoes were sort of secured on his feet, only one arm in his jacket. By the time he was out of the apartment building, the hoodie was zipped up around him, the hood drawn over his head. The thought that he had forgotten to lock his door briefly crossed his mind, but Tom didn't care enough to go back.

Tom didn't stop running until his gasps for air turned into more sobs, and he came to his senses. He sank to his knees onto the grass next to the sidewalk he had been running on, waiting for him to stop sobbing again. He wondered what he was doing, out at this time of night. He wondered why he was kidding himself, thinking Doug would want to apologize for hitting him. He wondered if Doug would still really want him, after this last week. He wondered a lot of things while his sobs subsided completely, this time skipping the whole hiccuping-while-gasping-Doug's-name stage. Finally all was quiet in the night air, with the exception of a car rushing past him on the street, driving at high-speed. He dragged his knees to his chest, placing his chin in between them. Part of him wanted to go back home, not want to see Doug. Besides-- Doug's house was far away. Yet, part of him wanted to go back to Doug.

The latter seemed to have a stronger influence on him.

Doug had done it. Doug had cried because of a guy. Doug had cried because he had hit him for no sensible reason, and then let him walk away. Doug had cried because Tom was ignoring him, and for as far as he could see, he would never again refer to Tom and him as 'us'. Their fight was typical, to be expected. They had spent the night quarrelling about how Tom planned to come out to his mom, and tell her about him and Doug. Usually, their fights about this weren't very brutal, nor did they last very long. However, this night was different. A fair amount of alcohol in both of their systems for an end-of-week trip to the bar with Judy and Ioki, and it had completely influenced Doug to slap Tom. The fight was unimportant now, however. He had no idea _why_ he had slapped Tom, and for all he knew he had just slapped Tom because he had felt like it. The idea of that hurt even more than anything else.

Doug had cried himself to sleep every night before this, only this night to be constantly awaken by nightmares of which he couldn't even remember the second his eyes opened.

This one wasn't so much of a nightmare, however. Doug wasn't anywhere, he was in the middle of nowhere, and there seemed to be nothing-- not even him. So it didn't really matter. Doug was fine, as long as nothing was there to bother him. Suddenly, he realized the meaning of what was happening in the dream. He was _nowhere_ and there was _nothing,_ kind of like without Tom he had _nowhere_ to go, _nothing_ to do, but most importantly, _no one_.

Suddenly, there was a noise that resembled knocking on hollow wood. Well, at least it wasn't the nothing he had been experiencing a moment ago. Doug waited for it to stop, but it never did. Eventually, he realized that the knocking was very much coming from outside of his dream, not inside of it.

He jumped up in surprise, unsure of what exactly what was going on, but nonetheless scrambling to the door. Whoever was here this late at night-- early in the morning-- must have had something relatively important for him. It wasn't like everyone and anyone just showed up at Doug's apartment at all hours.

And there Tom was, hand in the air, posed to knock on a door that was no longer there, his other hand holding himself up on the door frame, panting. After a minute, Tom finally dropped his hand limply to his side, taking his eyes off of Doug and staring at the floor.

Nothing happened for another minute, until Tom moved a little. Doug stood still in his pace, unsure of what to do. He blinked, and suddenly Tom's arms were around his waist, clawing at his back like he was trying to find something to hold onto. For lack of better thing to do, Doug wrapped his arms around Tom, not exactly sure of what was happening here. Surely, this was just another extension of the nightmare.

"I shouldn't have come," Tom eventually mumbled. Doug didn't answer. He couldn't talk. After a moment, "Do you want me to leave?"

"No!" Doug answered hoarsely, his response too quick. Tom didn't say anything. "D-- do you wanna come... in?"

"I'm in, aren't I?" Tom asked, trying to sound funny.

"Not by invitation." Neither of them laughed.

"I'm sorry..." Tom whispered eventually, still depending on Doug to stand.

"You shouldn't be," Doug whispered back. "I should be sorry."

"That's not what I mean." Tom was still whispering. "I mean I'm sorry I've been ignoring you." No answer. "Can I explain?"

"You don't have to explain anything, Tommy," Doug's voice broke. "I... hit you."

"Yea," Tom replied lamely. "You did."

Doug didn't have any idea what to say to this. "Come on, let's get out of the doorway."

Tom unwrapped his arms from around Doug, took one step towards the couch, and promptly collapsed. By the time Doug had turned around and saw him, he had rolled himself up into a ball. Doug would've picked him up, hadn't he felt shaky too. He feared that if he tried and lifted Tom, he would drop him, which would only cause more damage than he had already caused.

Instead, he sat down on the ground, next to Tom. The hood was still pulled over his face. For a long moment, Doug just stared at him, the only thing giving away that Tom was alive was his constant heaving. Finally, Doug managed to muster up the strength to draw back Tom's hood. Without thinking, he leaned forward and placed his lips on Tom's cheek. Tom's heaving stopped immediately.

Doug drew back, thinking that he had done something wrong. Tom's heaving returned, though not as heavily as before.

"Oh Tommy..." Doug said, scooping Tom into his arms and pulling the younger man into his lap. He opened his mouth to say it would be okay, but Doug couldn't be sure of that. And that scared him.

"I'm sorry," Tom muttered again, staring up at the ceiling from his head's place where Doug cradled it in his arms. "Are you?"

The question startled Doug immensely, and he stared into Tom's puffy eyes, which he had a feeling were no different than his own.

"You have no idea," Doug managed to whisper, replacing his hand on Tom's face where he had slapped him. This time it was not to hurt, however. Just to hold.

"Are we going to be okay?" There was a strain in Tom's voice.

"I don't know," Doug answered truthfully. Tom lifted his head out of Doug's lap, and hunched himself over his legs. Doug sighed, moving once again towards Tom. He reached out slowly before his hand finally touched Tom's back. He pulled himself closer towards Tom, sitting behind him so it was easier to rub the younger man's back.

"I want us to be okay," Tom announced finally.

"So do I." Doug couldn't help himself when a tear escaped from behind his eye, resisting the fluttering of his opening-and-closing eyelids. "Did I hurt you? When I--" Doug couldn't bring himself to finish the question.

"Don't worry about it," Tom said, looking up from the floor. "First off, I don't remember. Second off, if it did hurt, it doesn't anymore."

Doug broke out into more obvious tears at that. His fists clenched, and he rested them on his thigh instead of Tom's back. He didn't want to hurt him like that again.

Tom was quick to rush to Doug's aid, of course. He spun around, running his hands through Doug's hair. It was a relief, having finally been able to allow himself to do that again. "Don't cry, Dougie," Tom whispered, bringing his lips to Doug's forehead. Suddenly, Doug burst out laughing. Tom reared back quickly, studying Doug's expressions. "What?" he finally asked, finding no excuse in Doug's expression for him too have burst out laughing.

"I don't think I can remember anyone ever saying those words to me, ever," Doug said, smiling a little bit. Tom just blushed.

"Oh."

Tom dragged himself next to Doug, putting his arm around his shoulders. He leaned his head on Doug's shoulder blade, not minding how it wasn't really all the comfortable. Doug, at a point, put an arm around Tom's waist and pulled him closer.

"I missed you."

Doug looked at the top of Tom's head, something that was rather difficult considering that it put his own head at a rather uncomfortable angle. Tom looked up eventually, a result no doubt of Doug's lack of response to what Tom had said. He stared at Doug, biting his lip.

"I missed you too." Tom breathed, not realizing that he had been holding his breath. He took Doug's face in his hand, his thumb lightly stroking his cheek, wiping away the tears that were still wet against his skin. It took a moment for Tom to notice that he and Doug were leaning in closer to each other. He only realized it barely a second before Doug's lips closed in onto his. Tom pulled back abruptly, not thinking as he did so. He wanted to lean forward and kiss Doug again, but something in Doug's expression kept him from doing it.

"I'm sorry," Doug replied sheepishly. "Now's not exactly the greatest time, is it?" (No, right now was a fantastic time.) "Do you... wanna beer?"

"Sure," Tom replied, although he didn't really care for one.

Doug hesitated before standing up, walking slowly towards the kitchen. Tom scrambled up, suddenly not wanting Doug to leave his side again. What was one week, could turn into two weeks, and what could be two weeks-- well, Tom didn't even want to consider of the idea of that.

"Never mind," Tom said breathlessly, as his body slammed against Doug's, spinning the larger man around. Doug backed into the wall, having not expected that. "I'm fine... without a beer..."

Doug began to laugh as Tom clung onto his shoulders, his forehead pressed up against Doug's neck. "Tommy," he said in between chuckles. "You're cute."

Tom smiled into Doug's shirt, suddenly taking in extreme comfort in Doug's cologne. "You too," he murmured, pulling his face away from Doug's neck. He stood up straight, proving to Doug that he could finally stand on his own. However, Tom had a hand placed on Doug's chest, somewhere over his heart.

After a long moment, "Makin' sure I'm alive, huh, Tommy?"

"Something like that," Tom muttered, pushing his lips against Doug's. Doug smirked into the kiss, brushing his hand over Tom's cheek. Tom sighed, pulling away, and then put his hand over where Doug's hand was resting on his face. His fingers weaved and worked their way around Doug's fingers until their hands were completely intertwined. Doug was staring intently into Tom's eyes while this was going on, trying to figure out what he was thinking.

"What are you thinkin', Tommy?" Doug whispered, squeezing Tom's hand.

Tom did a double-take before he answered. "I don't know." Doug's hand escaped the clutch of Tom's, and he lowered both hands to Tom's hips, pulling him towards himself. Tom's breath hitched, and he closed his eyes for a moment. "Don't do that."

"Why?"

"Because we're trying to have a heart to heart conversation here, and that kind of thing turns me--" Doug cut Tom off, crashing his lips against Tom's. Tom, taken off guard, opened his mouth to search for air. Doug took it as a sign of wanting to further the kiss, and his tongue lazily grazed over Tom's bottom lip. Tom fell into the kiss there, emitting a stifled moan into Doug's mouth before pulling away. "...On."

Doug's crooked grin stretched from ear to ear as his hand kept their firm grip on Tom's hips. "You like it." It wasn't a question.

"I did," Tom stated matter-of-factly. Doug raised his brow, and leaned closer to Tom again, bowing his head so their foreheads were touching. Tom absentmindedly, began to pull up at the bottom of Doug's shirt, his heart-beat beginning to speed up.

"Tom, what are you doing?" Doug asked, though he seemed in no rush to keep Tom from clawing at his shirt.

"I need you, Dougie," Tom mumbled, though he stopped pulling at Doug's shirt so he could pay more attention to Doug's face.

"Hold on a second here," Doug replied, his grin even wider than before. "Are you-- is Tom Hanson-- _Tom Hanson--_ suggesting make-up sex?"

"It's not make-up sex--" Tom protested.

"Oh, yes, Tom," Doug said, nodding. "It most definitely is." Tom just stared at Doug, unsure of what he was supposed to do. After a moment, he resumed tugging at Doug's shirt again. Doug laughed, pulling Tom's hips towards him again, as he planted a kiss on his lips. "Off to the bedroom, you naughty little horn-dog, you!" Doug announced, pushing Tom towards the hallway, giving him a firm slap on the ass on the way.

"Doug!"

"What?" Doug asked, pushing Tom up against the wall next to the doorway of his bedroom.

"That was my ass!"

"Not for the rest of tonight it isn't," Doug grinned, reaching around the back of Tom's pants again. "That thing's mine, and I can do whatever I feel like with it."

"I'm kind of excited," Tom laughed.

"That's what the _front_ of your pants have been telling me," Doug mumbled, finishing the sentence with his mouth on top of Tom's. Doug's hands began fumbling with the zipper on Tom's sweatshirt. Tom, however, was interfering as he resumed his attempts to get Doug's shirt over his head. After Doug was frustrated enough, he broke off the kiss, and hissed "You first."

Tom stopped trying to grab at Doug's shirt, and allowed Doug to fumble with the hoodie until it was off. Tom whined, leaning against the wall. Doug stopped pulling at Tom's undershirt. "What?"

"Faster," Tom breathed. "You're taking forever."

"I'm sorry," Doug said, his fingers numbly pulling at the undershirt. "I can't pay attention to that, when--" He was cut off short, Tom's hands clasping on the bottom of Doug's shirt and pulled it over his head.

"It's not that hard, you idiot," Tom growled, dropping Doug's shirt on the floor next to them.

"Do that again."

"Do what again?"

"That thing. With your voice. Do it again. It was sexy," Doug grinned, his hand playing with the hem of Tom's undershirt.

"Doug--"

"There you go," Doug smiled, pulling Tom's shirt off. As Tom's arms were thrown above his head by the shirt, Doug trapped Tom's wrists with this hands above his head. Doug pushed his lips into Tom's, ignoring the whines emitting from Tom as he tried to break the grip on his wrists. After a minute, Tom still hadn't stopped whining about his trapped arms. "Patience is a virtue, Thomas."

"Doug, if your stupid little boxer shorts aren't on the floor in five seconds, I'm going to kill something."

"Pushy, pushy, aren't you? And there we go again with that voice thing I love so much!" Doug teased, still holding Tom's arms above his head. "One... two... three... four--"

"DOUG!" Tom shouted. This seemed to be enough, as Doug let go of his grip. Tom's hands shot down to the waistband on Doug's boxer shorts, and wrenched them downwards, as he pushed his lips against Doug's again. Doug's hands spent no time playing with the buttons and zippers this time. Tom moaned as his pants and underwear were both pushed down towards his ankles in one motion. Doug's hand ventured downwards towards Tom's erection, where he began to lightly massage the tip. Tom tensed, and let out a shaky breath as a release, leaning his head against the wall, while Doug busied his lips on Tom's neck. "Doug..." Tom gasped, his finger nails-- even as short as they were-- digging into Doug's back.

"Bedroom," Doug demanded. "Now."

Tom hesitated only to kick his shoes off and pull his legs out of the pant legs as he pulled Doug into the bedroom.

"Wait-- Tom," Doug said as Tom tried to pull him onto the bed. His eyes were averted lower than Tom's face, and Tom felt his cheeks redden.

"What?" he managed to ask.

Pause. "You're wearing socks," Doug said, as if it wasn't so obvious. Another pause. "I'm not gonna have sex with someone whose only wearing socks."

Tom burst out laughing, folding in half at one point. Doug chuckled nervously, until Tom finally regained composure, and then took off his socks. "Better?"

"Remarkably." Doug sighed, glad that Tom hadn't thought he was an idiot. He took a step towards Tom, placing his lips against his forehead. Tom began to run his hand down Doug's spine, causing Doug to shiver in delight. He ran his forefinger down the rest of his back, and placed the same finger on Doug's bare chest, tracing imaginary patterns. Doug gasped as Tom's hand gradually worked it's way lower, until it was resting on the inner of Doug's thighs. "Tommy," Doug moaned, not being able to say anything after that. Tom looked up at Doug, whose eyes were scrunched closed while he was biting his lip.

Tom leaned forward, licking the side of Doug's mouth. Doug entangled his fingers in Tom's hair, the other hand sitting idly on Tom's hip. His thumb pressed into Tom's hipbone as his arousal became more pronounced. Tom's hand pressed against Doug's erection, and Doug attached his mouth onto Tom's, moaning all the while.

"Tom," Doug said in between kisses. "Tom, oh God, stop teasing me."

"It's a lot of fun," Tom muttered breathlessly.

"Weren't you-- oh God-- weren't you the one who was-- Tom, oh my God-- s-- so eager to get me to-- oh God-- to get me to stop doing this to you?"

"Once again, I didn't realize how much fun it could be," Tom grinned, finding a soft spot as Doug bucked his hips forward.

"Get on the bed, Thomas." Doug didn't give Tom much of a choice, as he pushed Tom onto the bed. Doug, trembling with anticipation, reached into the drawer, fumbling around for a condom and some lubricant.

"Dougie," Tom whined from behind him. "Why are you taking so long to do everything tonight?"

Doug didn't answer, only let out a small 'ah-ha!', as he took his hand out of the drawer, holding an un-opened condom wrapper and a bottle of lube. "Make yourself useful and open this," Doug ordered, shoving the bottle into Tom's hands.

"Why?"

"It takes a lot of time to make sure you're safe from STDs, Tom," Doug said half-sarcastically. However, by the time Doug held out his hand for the bottle of lube, Tom had conveniently made sure that it was open for him.

"Doug, are you ready yet?" Tom whined, squirming impatiently.

"Yes, are you?" Doug said, replacing the bottle and empty wrapper on the nightstand. Tom didn't have to answer, as Doug turned around, eyes shining bright with lust. He began to lower down onto Tom, who had just as fast wrapped his legs around Doug's torso. Doug opened his mouth to repeat his question, but was cut off.

"Doug, _now_," Tom hissed.

Doug did as he was told, lowering himself slowly into Tom's body. Tom 's hips rocked automatically forward, pushing Doug deeper inside of him. Doug chuckled a little, leaning forward forward to kiss the corner of Tom's mouth. Tom was trembling slightly beneath him, his eyes closed in concentration. "Dougie," Tom let out in nothing more than a whisper, and Doug took that as a sign that he was comfortable. Still, even after a year of being with Tom, he was always careful not to hurt him. Doug pushed his hips forward, Tom's breathing stopping for a moment, only to be let out into a moan stifled only by where Tom had suddenly crushed his lips against Doug's. Doug's trembling anticipation could be contained no longer, and he pulled himself back out of Tom, only to be pushed back in with more force. This time, Tom's moan was louder, though still muffled. Doug pulled away, from the kiss, his hips still rhythmically pushing back and forth. He placed his lips on Tom's neck, sucking lightly, Tom's back arching under him.

"Faster," Tom moaned after a while, his hands running through Doug's hair. Doug concentrated on finding a faster pace, the sounds of Tom's pleasure enough to stimulate even more arousal in Doug, causing his pace to quicken again. Doug's groans, however were no match for Tom's shouts. Doug lowered his head, placing his lips around one of Tom's already erect nipples, nibbling at it intently. This seemed to have been enough for Tom, as he arched his back one last time, ejaculating onto both Doug's and his own stomach. Tom's final groan seemed to be the last straw for Doug, as he reached climax and felt himself cum into what would have been Tom, had it not been for his condom.

Tom and Doug's bodies both went limp simultaneously, Doug allowing himself to settle himself down next to Tom, exhausted. He peeled off the condom that he wore, flinging it to the corner of the room near the garbage can. He didn't pay enough attention to see if it had made it to his target, as he felt Tom's arm wrapped around his neck, pulling them closer together. Doug rolled to his side, his skin rubbing against Tom's. He sighed, rubbing his hand against Tom's arm that was covered in a layer of sweat.

"Thank you," Tom whispered, intertwining his legs with Doug's.

"For what?" Doug asked, a forefinger brushing a strand of hair out of Tom's eyes, and then across his cheek.

"I don't know," Tom hesitated, biting his lip. "For not kicking me out of your apartment when I broke down. For letting me come back here. For that."

"Why would I have kicked you out of my apartment?" Doug asked, sitting up a little. His elbow was perched on the mattress, his hand holding his head up.

"I don't know," Tom shrugged. He didn't want to mention how they had come to separate for the week again, knowing it would ruin the moment, so he just kept quiet.

"No matter, you're welcome," Doug finally said, lifting Tom's chin from where his gaze had wandered to his chest. Doug leaned forward, kissing Tom softly. Tom wrapped his arms around Doug's waist, burying his head in his chest.

It was quiet for minutes to come, but both of them were wondering if the last week they had spent apart was worth sharing the last hour they had shared together.

**A/N: Huh. Maybe my mom dropped me on my head when I was a baby. Still, I'll ask for constructive criticism again.**


End file.
